Fresh Start
by WonderfulWonderful
Summary: With her job on the line, Jenny is desperate for help and this comes in the form of an old school friend who just so happens to be a certain radio pirate. A Simon/OC fan fiction.


Jenny had grown used to the comfort of the small office in the dingiest corner of London. It had small side light that was now the main light ever since the bulb in the overhead light had blown. Rory didn't see the point in replacing it: _"It's more money, isn't it?_ ". The wallpaper was apparently once green and you could just make it hints of the old floral pattern. There was a side table with stacks of paper and two wooden desks with typewriters on each one. The sign on one of the tables read: 'Imogen Warley'. Her official name, not that she used it when writing. Jenny Warley just had a much nicer ring to it. Though the girls at school thought Jenny Whore-ly sounded even catchier. At least she didn't have to think about them anymore.

The door to the office had a glass window with peeling letters that once read out 'Quaver and Crotchet'. It was a niche music magazine. Hardly in line with the likes of Rolling Stone or NME. They had a small but devoted audience. Jenny just wished the name was catchier. It sounded more like the name of a child's introduction to piano book than a magazine that covered modern music. It was named as such after the founder Rory Crotchet, though Jenny doubted that was his actual last name or that he ever founded it with an 'Edmund Quaver'. Ed, as Rory always referred to him as, had never written any articles as Jenny noticed when trying to archive in her first week on the job. There were no pictures, no visits – he was a ghost.

Jenny had been very proud when she first got the job. It was her very own and far different from what was available. She knew her mum would have preferred her taking on the secretary position offered to her by her Uncle but Jenny didn't care. Her parents warmed to it eventually. Slowly they began buying the monthly copy and reading her articles. They helped her secure her own flat too.

Rory entered the office and slammed the door behind him.

"We need a new story and it needs to be good." He slammed down a pile of papers on his desk.

"Okay, well, er, there's a new youth choir—"

"No chance."

"Um, we could focus on street talent—"

"Think bigger!"

"Interview up and coming bands—"

"We're better than that!"

"Well not meaning to be rude Rory but there's not a lot else we can do." Jenny sighed.

"What do you mean we can't?" Rory pulled out a cigarette and wedged it between his lips. He fumbled around for a lighter, "Listen here sweetheart, we need to score big on the next issue or you can kiss this business goodbye."

"What?" Jenny reached for a lighter in her draw and lit his cigarette.

"Thanks. What I mean is I've just been talking to the big guys at the bank and we're on the verge on bankruptcy. One more dud issue and we're smoke. You have 3 days to get back to me with something. Anyway I have some errands to run. Oh and remember if this business goes down, it's going down because of you."

Rory slammed the door behind him and Jenny gaped after him. She reached for the new papers on his desk and scanned through the accounts. It was true. There was just enough money to make a small publication. After that there was nothing. And there was no chance of a loan either. They'd already had too many. Jenny sat in her chair, chewing at her nails and fighting back tears. This was her independence crumbling before her. She pulled her chair further into the desk and began fervently typing out a to-do list. Places to go, people to talk to – anywhere she could find that hidden gem. She tore away the paper and grabbed her coat. She hurried out the door with her handbag in one hand and her notepad in the other. She only just remembered to lock the door on the way out.

Jenny ran all over London visiting jazz bars and clubs, street corners and talent scouts. It didn't matter at this point if it was rock and roll. Maybe that's what the magazine needed; a fresh look. Everywhere said no. Either there was no one to offer, or they had scrunched their noses at the sound of Quaver and Crotchet. She deeply regretted wearing heels to work and by the time it was dark she finally gave in and took the shoes off her feet and walked down the streets of London in her stockings, attracting disapproving looks from passer-by's. Soon enough when she was done with people staring; Jenny took refuge in a pub, sinking into a corner booth with a pint to sooth her tiredness. She probably looked an absolute state; footless with dishevelled hair and clasping onto a pint with all dear life. She knew she just ought to drown her sorrows now. This was it for her. No more job, no more nice flat. It was time to head home to Mum and Dad.

After finishing her first pint, Jenny made her way to the bar for another, this time donning her shoes to at least appear normal as one of the few females in the place.

As she waited to be served she heard a growl. Someone jabbed a finger into her shoulder and she turned around to see a podgy man with glasses and thick sideburns. There was something familiar about him that distracted Jenny from hearing his flirtatious remarks. Something about the eyes and the grin. Her eyes widened. It was David Timmins! From secondary school. He'd certainly gained more weight…or was he always like that? Jenny couldn't actually remember.

"Did you go to St Benedict's Secondary?" She interrupted his spiel of romance.

He blinked at her for a few moments, "Jenny Whor- I mean Warley?"

Jenny grinned, ignoring the small slip-up, "In the flesh."

"My God how long has it been?" He exclaimed, eyeing her up, "I must say you look great."

"Thank you; you don't look too bad yourself, David."

"Please, call me Dave. And you don't have to be polite about this old thing," He smacked his hands against his belly, "Some ladies love it, others don't."

"So what are you up to now?" Jenny asked.

"Oh me? I'm actually a radio DJ." He replied

"Oh really? Where?"

"Well my pretty Jenny, have you ever heard of…" Dave cleared his throat, "Radio Rock?"

Jenny's eyes widened and she smacked her hands down on the counter, "You don't?"

"Oh but I do." He grinned. He turned to the barman, "Two pints please."

"That's incredible. You're Doctor Dave? This entire time I've been listening to an old school mate and I didn't even realise!"

"You're okay with a pint by the way?"

Jenny nodded.

"Perfect." Dave replied as he paid for the drinks. He carried them away and beckoned for Jenny to follow him. He led her to a table. Three other guys were nursing drinks. They immediately perked up at the sight of Jenny.

"Well, well, well, what lovely lady do we have here?" A ginger haired man asked in a distinctively New Zealand voice. Jenny knew for certain that he was Angus.

"This, my friend, is Jenny. We went to school together." Dave gestured for her to sit down first and he squeezed in next her.

Jenny nodded a hello at her other neighbour. He had brown curly hair and when he spoke he spoke with an Irish accent. That was Simon. She often listened to him when she arrived early to the office to finalise the magazine for publication.

"And these, Jenny, are Angus, The Count and Simon." Dave took a swig of his drink as the others waved.

That meant that the blond guy with a gingery beard and a leather waistcoat had to be the Count. He stroked his beard and watched Jenny.

"So Jenny," The Count began, "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

"Well that's quite a story." She giggled, "To put it simply I had some very tiring work errands. I needed a chance to rest my feet so I stopped at the first pub I could."

"What exactly do you do?"

"I'm a writer for a music magazine."

The table nodded in approval.

"Actually you guys could help me." Jenny said, "My magazine could cease to exist after the next issue if I don't get a good feature article and thousands of people listen to Radio Rock. I understand if you don't want to but you would literally be saving my life."

There was a pause and then Dave perked up, "I'll see what I can do. If you give me your number then I can call you back by tomorrow and we can go from there?"

Jenny smiled. She grabbed her notepad and scrawled out the office number. She handed it to Dave who shared a knowing look with the others. Jenny took a long drink and sighed. Finally she was making progress.

She sat with the men for another couple of hours. Another member joined them later on. He was the infamous Midnight Mark. He'd just returned from wooing a lady at a bar across the street. Jenny thought he might speak up more in the group than he did on the radio but he turned out to be the same no matter the circumstances.

She got the call the next day at 9am, though Jenny had been waiting around since 6 with Radio Rock playing in the background, worried they might call and she'd miss it. She grinned from ear to ear as Dave confirmed that Quentin, the owner of the station, had approved the interview. She would join them at 6pm that evening on the actual Radio Rock boat. She couldn't contain her excitement anymore as she put the phone down. She hooted and cheered with joy before finally taking a seat and working out how she would get to and pay for transport out to Suffolk.

The dock came into sight as the taxi pulled up. After hours of preparing notes, taking a train and then a taxi, Jenny was drained. She thanked the driver and paid the fare before making her way up to the small boat. A sailor waited by the controls as the boat bobbed up and down.

"Are you Jenny Warley?" The sailor asked.

She nodded

"Well step in and we can get going."

Jenny tentatively lowered herself into the boat and gripped onto the side for support as the boat pulled away from the land and out to the ocean. Jenny clutched her case of files tightly. She'd packed a tape recorder and she prayed it actually worked.

Soon the boat's silhouette came into sight and then Jenny could make out the big white letters saying: 'Radio Rock'. She also noticed two figures staring out towards her. The boat came to a halt at the rock ships side, right next to a ladder.

"Thank you" Jenny said to the sailor.

She grabbed her case and a bag containing the recorder and began her climb up the ladder. Hands reached out to take her belongings. She made it to the top and thanked the men too. It was Dave and Simon. They led her off the deck and into a studio space. There was a long dining table and a bed and a desk. At the desk sat an ageing man. Surely not all the DJs had this?

"This is where we leave you but we will see you shortly." Dave explained.

She waved goodbye to the pair of them and turned towards the man who had now gotten up from his seat.

"You must be the Jenny that I've heard so much about." He began, reaching out his hand. He had a firm grip.

"And you are Quentin?" Jenny hazarded a guess.

"You are correct. Now obviously you are here for just a couple hours-if that-for your lovely interview and I'm more than happy to help you out in your predicament, but I just wanted to give you a chance to at least warn you of some small things."

"Right?" Jenny eyed the man up warily.

"As you may or may not know this is a predominantly male inhabited boat. We do have one female which few know about. She is our lovely cook Felicity. My point is that if any of the men, especially Mark, offer you a moment alone, don't take it. They are all dashing men and you are a very beautiful woman and I'd certainly be a hypocrite to discourage it but basically…don't sleep with them. Sure if you meet them again in London and they invite you here by all means."

"I see."

"Good. Now that's out of the way I can take you to meet the DJs. Unfortunately Angus is on air at the moment so he won't be there for the interview, but between you and mean that's not really a pity now is it?" Quentin snorted and then guided Jenny out of his quarters, back onto the deck and across to common room where the DJs were gathered around a booth. She smiled at them.

"Hi, if you don't already know who I am, I'm Jenny Warley from Quaver and Crotchet magazine."

There was a snicker here and there. Jenny sighed.

"Kevin?" Quentin called.

"Yes?" A man looked up with wide eyes and floppy hair.

"Could you sit this one out?" Quentin asked.

He sighed, "Okay." Kevin got up and left the room in a sulk.

Jenny set up the recorder and arranged the files with all her notes accordingly.

"Everyone ready?" She asked

They cheered. She pressed play.

* * *

Jenny watched Rory skim through her article with dread in her heart. Every furrow of the eyebrow, or scratch of his head sent her reeling. He didn't like it. Of course he didn't. But wait he seemed excited? Did he? It was pure agony waiting for him to finish. When he finally stopped murmuring along with the article, Jenny thought her heart was going to burst.

"Well?" She asked

"How the fuck did you secure something like this?"

"An old friend."

"It's brilliant. It really is. No other magazine has this. I'm proud of you Jen."

"Really?"

"Really. Now wrap up a couple more filler articles – something about those youth choirs you mentioned – and get this to the printers by Friday. Got it?"

"I'm on it!" Jenny nodded. A permanent grin had set on her face and didn't budge, not even when her sister came over to moan about her husband or when it rained down and she didn't have an umbrella or hood. Nothing could break it. She was grinning at the printers and grinning when it went on sale. She grinned when he parents called her to congratulate her though her Mum showed concern in putting a spotlight on Radio Rock. She grinned as it flew off the shelves and 100 more copies had to be printed and she grinned all the way up until Rory said:

"I'm shutting down the company."

"What?" Jenny stammered.

"You heard me."

"But, but I got you that article. It's the best sales you've had since you started the damn thing!"

"I know and I really do appreciate it and it's not because we're bankrupt. NME called. They want to bring me into their team. Clearly they've learned what real talent looks like!"

"But I wrote that article. I found it for you."

"Yeah and it means a lot but I've been climbing this ladder for a decade so I deserve my shot. You just have to wait your turn like everyone else. Make sure to take all your things by tonight. I told the landlord we'd be out of here by tomorrow. Thanks again, sweetheart."

Rory donned his hat and coat, picked up his typewriter and the photo of his wife and kids and walked out just like that.

Jenny was furious. She stared at the wide open door wide eyed and ready to scream. She should have just let it sink.

At 9pm that night, Jenny left the humble comfort of an office she knew she would miss with her possessions boxed up into a cardboard box. She locked the door one final time and left the key at reception.

She wasn't sure where to go after that. She couldn't face her parents nor could she stand the thought of standing in a flat she knew she was about to lose and so in the end she decided on the same pub where she reunited with her old school friend.

As she walked through the doors she spotted Dave and Simon laughing and drinking at the same table as before. Dave looked up for a moment and noticed Jenny. He invited her over and gestured to a spare seat next to Simon.

"Well if it isn't our favourite writer! Well done on the article." Dave cheered. He raised his glass, "To Jenny Warley."

Simon raised his with a wide grin, "To Jenny Warley."

"I just lost my job." She confessed.

The men lowered their glasses and frowned.

"I'm sorry to hear that Jen." Dave sighed

"But I swear you just wrote the best article that company has ever seen?" Simon piped up.

"It was so good that NME offered my boss a job and so he's shut down the magazine." She explained

"Wait, your boss?" Dave asked.

"My boss, yep." She groaned

"But you wrote it—"

"I know."

"What a dick." Simon said.

"Tell me about it." She sighed.

"Would you like a drink?" Dave asked

"Please." She replied.

Dave got up and made his way to the bar, leaving them to make idle conversation.

"I'm sorry. You know about the whole losing your job thing." Simon took a sip of his drink.

"It's okay." Jenny said as she rested her head on the table.

"I've never realised how difficult it is to make conversation when someone tells you they've lost their job." Simon chuckled nervously.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be more of a laugh when I have alcohol down me." She yawned

"I know you'll be back on your feet soon though."

"How so?"

"You seem resilient. Got the hard stuff."

Jenny sat up and smiled, "I sure hope so. The show's sounding good."

"Really? You think so? I worry sometimes. The jokes aren't too much are they?"

"The jokes are perfect."

"You're going to love me." Dave slammed two pints down on the table, dragging the pair out of their small talk.

"Oh?" Jenny raised an eyebrow as she quickly began gulping down the brown liquid.

"Steady on Jen. So while the barman sorted my drinks I made a quick call to our lovely Quentin and he says he can offer you a bed." Dave took his seat and sat back proudly.

"But how's that possible? Radio Rock doesn't take girls, you said so yourself in the interview. Obviously there's Felicity but she's—" Jenny quickly glanced around the bar, "of a certain persuasion."

"I mean he wasn't jumping for joy at the idea but he's met you and he likes you and he feels bad. He said he'll sort some kind of work for you when you get there. I mean you could even come back with us tonight if you want." Dave grinned, taking a swig of his pint.

Jenny pressed her lips together, "I'll have to speak to my landlord first and gather up my things. Give me a week to even things out and then I'll join you if Quentin hasn't changed his mind by then. Could I possibly have the boat's number so I can make arrangements with Quentin myself?"

"Of course!" Dave felt about for his address book in his jacket. He pulled out the small leather book and pressed it down on the table at the right page.

Jenny grabbed a piece of paper from her box and scrawled out the details.

"Thank you." She smiled before taking another long sip of her drink.

And within a week Jenny ended her tenancy and received the whole wrath of her mother. Apparently after rock and roll magazines, a rock and roll ship was a step too far.

" _But you don't even know what they'll be doing!"_ She had cried, _"They could get you pregnant! Those men have no morals."_

But Jenny pushed it behind her and, as she had arranged with Quentin, she arrived at the docks in Suffolk for precisely 11am and departed with the same sailor from her previous visit towards a life a far cry from a humble London office.

* * *

 **So I have been intending to right a 'The Boat that Rocked' fanfiction for about 4 years or so, so this been developed over a very long period of time. I apologise if I take a while to upload future chapter. I hope you enjoy!**


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